


You can't always get what you want...

by jssangel



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Clothed Sex, F/M, Fingerfucking, Kink/Cliche Challenge, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jssangel/pseuds/jssangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Livejournal back in the day:</p><p><span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://monanotlisa.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://monanotlisa.livejournal.com/"><b>monanotlisa</b></a></span> asked me for a sequel to <a href="http://jssangel.livejournal.com/10231.html#cutid1">Successful Trade</a></p><p>It's taking me a while, because my home computer was stolen by elves who promised me they would fix it.  Also, I have to write without saving anything on the computer I have access to, which is a little nerve-wracking.</p><p>I am posting the first 2300 words of the story here, just to have them saved and safe.  It doesn't end on a cliffhanger, but neither is it the whole story.  When it's all done, I'll link it to <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-C"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://ficformona.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://ficformona.livejournal.com/"><b>ficformona</b></a> as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You can't always get what you want...

**You Can't Alway Get What You Want**

The one problem with bringing a fully charged ZPM back to Atlantis was that it didn't really lead to a lot privacy for personal conversation among the command staff.

The Gate Team had barely stepped through the event horizon when Rodney tried to snatch the thing out of her hands, the entire physics department a comet tail of excitement behind him. There was an undignified tug of war, until John appeared and yanked him back.

"Come on Rodney. We talked about this. You have to _ask_ the other kids if you want to play with their toys."

"Really, Colonel, there's no need for this brutish display of -"

\- and they were off , heading up the stairs, and herding Elizabeth and the rest of the team along with them towards the post-mission conference. She could feel Major Lorne behind her, and flushed at the knowledge that he'd have an eyeful of her backside, if he was trailing his usual four steps behind.

She'd been sharply aware of her surroundings the night before, even when her body was so thoroughly unstrung that she would have collapsed if he hadn't been supporting her weight. She'd felt him shaking against her, her skin prickling with nerves she had never been aware of before that moment. She had felt him stutter and thrust against her almost silently, only a barely audible growl narrating his fall. They were on their knees together when he finished, his body curved hot and hard and protective around hers, his breath gradually slowing in her ear.

It hadn't seemed fair that the Sekalt, which had lit such an obliviating fire in her mind and body only moments earlier, hadn't left her with any shield to beat back reality. There was no blackout, no drunken blur, no plausible deniability to stumble back to her quarters with and cling to unswervingly the next day. There was the very real, very intimate feeling of his hand sliding out from between her legs, sending aftershocks skating over her body. There was the gradual slowing of their breathing and heart rates, and a silence in the trade pavilion that took on a life of its own.

His arms had loosened infinitesimally, enough that she could choose to move away, or still lean on their support. It had made something inside her start to tighten again, that he was always so careful to balance protection with respect.

It made her want to push back against him again, to keep absorbing warmth from the furnace of his body. But she didn't often get what she wanted; and she owed him a match for his dutiful support.

She pulled away, leaning on her hands and knees, and cold air flooded the space between them. As soon as he felt her move, he retreated too. She didn't want him to stand, didn't want to see him cover himself with a military shell, so she tipped on her hip and wiggled around to face where he knelt behind her.

His face looked young, flushed with heat, and more vulnerable than she had ever seen. He wasn't quite meeting her eyes, and he had caught his lower lip with his teeth, as though he was trying to school his expression back to neutrality.

She knew she should speak first.

She couldn't think of anything to say.

After a minute they breathed in simultaneously, and she said "Major" at the same time that he said "Elizabeth". He tripped over his tongue rushing to add "Ma'am" while she stuttered out his first name.

They stopped together, and both said "You first", and then he finally looked up and caught her eye, and they started laughing.

He had a nice laugh. A nice smile. A nice everything.

He had pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand. She'd taken it, and let him pull her up, reveling in his strength and the broad warmth of his palm for just a moment. She imagined that he lingered too, holding her hand for an extra second, even after she was steady on her feet.

They negotiated their way through the moments that followed with awkward good humor and half completed sentences. Mutual assurances of respect and privacy, excuses and explanations built around the alien drink, and subtle shifts within damp and sticky clothes carried them to a conclusion of "That stuff was very strong." and "Nobody's saying it wasn't pleasant" and "Never again." Never again.

They'd exited the Trade Pavilion together, and she was glad to retreat to the space she'd been assigned, while he settled down with the Marines in the room outside. She'd heard the murmur of his voice through the door, and then the quickly stifled hoot from the marines, responding to the promise of the ZPM. She'd splashed water on her hot face to keep from straining to hear his voice again.

It wasn't until much later, lying in bed, nearly on the edge of sleep that she thought, "But he never drank the Sekalt".

It had taken her a long time to fall asleep.

***

Even if Lorne hadn't had any other reason to be a little worked up, the post-mission briefing would have been more exciting than usual. Sheppard always attended, always asked a few questions, but generally, if Lorne had been running the mission, the meeting was Lorne's. It didn't necessarily take a ZPM to get McKay in the room, but his attendance was rare unless there had been a major discovery made off-planet.

When he was there, however, McKay tended to commandeer all the available conversation, until he had thoroughly hijacked the entire event. Sheppard kept up a running stream of sarcasm which Lorne assumed was intended to corral McKay's more far reaching tangents, and Elizabeth tended to drop her agenda points in whenever McKay stopped to draw breath.

Dr. Weir. Dr. Weir tended to drop her agenda into the infrequent breathing spaces.

Lorne was sure that this particular meeting was a high point in the comedy career of Sheppard and McKay. He'd had plenty of time to sip the mouth-scouring Athosian tea that was the closest native equivalent to coffee while they launched into their routine. McKay was talking double time, spots of color bright on his cheeks and a gleam of unconcealed lust in his eye as he regarded the ZPM. Sheppard was alternating between repeating McKay's odd ZedPM phrasing every time he referred to the thing, and practically hopping up and down in his seat at the thought of powering up more of the City's dormant systems.

Beckett showed up ten minutes in, pissed that no one had reported for their post-mission exams yet.

McKay jumped on the interruption, and said that obviously the gate team should go off to get poked and prodded while he got on with actual work of preserving the city and planning out his next strategy for SAVING ALL THEIR LIVES with their shiny new power source.

Dr. Weir raised her voice over McKay's, to say, for the tenth time in as many minutes, "The point is, Rodney, do not take any of them apart. And do not count on being able to keep this one. Stargate command may decide that Earth needs the extra power source more than we do."

McKay's mouth crooked in a sharper version of his usual sneer as he said "Stargate Command can -"

Sheppard cut in with "Mckay -"

As Elizabeth said "Rodney!", and he finally shut up.

In the brief silence that followed, Beckett cleared his throat and said, "Well then, I know you enjoyed some of the native food and drink while you were there..."

That was Sheppard's cue to give his usual bland smirk over their off-planet drinking arrangements, and Elizabeth's cue to put him in his place with a quirk of her brow.

Instead she blushed, color flaming over her face and staining her throat all the way down to the open vee of her uniform. Lorne's eyes got caught there. It occurred to him that if the zipper was a centimeter lower, the entire column of her throat would be revealed. He wondered if there was mark on her neck.

Lorne didn't know if Beckett spoke to fill an awkward silence, or if he was just continuing his earlier sentence. He barely heard the doctor ask if anyone had been exposed to anything unusual, and if they all felt normal.

He was working so hard not to look at Dr. Weir that he almost didn't hear Sheppard say his name. He looked at Sheppard and glanced back at Weir, and wished they'd been a little more specific when they had talked about privacy.

She rescued him by cutting in. "There was a local liquor which was very potent. It had a higher alcohol content than most of what we've found in this galaxy."

"So then Colonel Sheppard shouldn't go bar hopping there?"

"Shut up, Rodney" Sheppard drawled, "Everyone make it through the night ok?" He looked at Lorne again.

"Yes sir" he replied, still not looking at Elizabeth.

"All right then -" Sheppard started to answer, but Beckett cut him off.

"Did you bring a sample of it back for analysis?" he asked. "Did you notice any unusual side effects?"

"Oh by all means, let all sit around and trade stories about how much fun it was to get drunk on the Planet of Colorful Tents, instead of ending this meeting and letting me get on with my extremely valuable and important - "

"Rodney!" Sheppard said again, turned back to Lorne and said, "Sorry -"

Lorne nodded, still trying to figure out a way to respond when Sergeant Martinez, obviously trying to help get the conversation back on track, opened his mouth to volunteer "Major Lorne got an entire bottle to bring back as a sample, Sir."

"Wonderful!" said Beckett. "Bring it down to the med-lab when you come for your exam."

The meeting wrapped up excruciatingly slowly from Lorne's point of view. He hadn't thought about why he had accepted the bottle from the Matriarch's bodyguard, but he also thought that he hadn't been noticed tucking it away in his pack. Of course, there was no reason to be angry at Martinez for mentioning it; actually, it was a good thing that Lorne had brought a sample of the liquor back through the gate, just in case there were any lingering side effects.

He wanted to talk to Dr. Weir though. Not to plan out a lie or anything, but just to check on how certain she was of Beckett's confidentiality.

He couldn't ask her about it with the man standing right there, though. After Rodney had finally been allowed to seize the ZPM with greedy hands and rush off with the waiting crowd of physicists and engineers, Beckett lingered in the conference room talking about the nutritional value of the Not Quite Carrots that came with the deal.

Sheppard dismissed the marines and Lorne as he left to follow McKay to the labs. His men headed straight to the Med-lab for their exams, and Lorne lingered near the end of the hall hoping to catch Dr. Weir alone.

But Beckett was with her when she emerged, and they didn't have time or opportunity for anything more than a nod (from him), and a half smile (from her), before the Doctor was hustling her off, a proprietary hand wrapped around her arm.

Lorne knew that once they had passed him, he looked at Beckett's hand a little too resentfully. He knew that he let his eyes trace the curve of Dr. Weir's hip and the spread of her ass a little too nakedly. What he did not know until it was too late was that Sheppard had come back towards the conference room, and saw way too much written all over his face.

Their was a split second where Lorne tried to decide what to do, tried to figure out what kind of reaction would provoke the least trouble from his CO. He'd never believed the rumors that something was going on between Sheppard and Weir, but he wasn't dumb enough to think the man wouldn't care if his second in command was thinking about punching the chief medical officer in the face for touching her.

He let himself smile at being caught, gave kind of a shrug, and looked back at her with a "Boy's will be boys" smirk, making it cheap, making it all about her fuck-able body.

Sheppard didn't smirk back.

"Are we about to have a problem here, Major?" He drawled.

Lorne wiped his face of all expression. "Sir. No sir."

"Then keep your eyes where they belong."

Lorne nodded.

"And get that stuff for Beckett."

Lorne nodded again, and Sheppard titled his head, a little bit of friendliness making it back into his eyes. He clapped a hand on Lorne's shoulder - probably the closest he would ever get to "It happens to everyone sometimes" and walked back to the conference room.

Lorne headed for his quarters.

When he got there, he dumped the field pack upside down on his bed, with unnecessary force. He picked up the bottle of Sekalt and looked at it, not wanting to think about why he had taken it.

He pulled the stopper out of the jar. The smell of the stuff, sweet like honey, sweet the way her mouth had been, filled the room. He tipped the bottle, bringing it close to his face. He wasn't going to drink any. He'd seen the effect it had on her. But he wished Martinez hadn't been so quick on the uptake.

The mouth of the bottle was dark. For one crazy second he thought about running his tongue around it - the way he'd run his fingers around her. He thought about the taste of honey in his mouth, and the way she would have tasted - wet and salty - if he had licked her, instead of just using his fingers.

He shook his head to clear it and jammed the stopper back into the bottle. He brought it to the Med-lab and decided to forget he'd ever had it.

But that night in the mess, he used a spoonful of honey to flavor his Athosian tea.


End file.
